This Troilus her gan in armes strain,
And said, “O sweet, as ever may I go’n,* *prosper
Now be ye caught, now here is but we twain,
Now yielde you, for other boot* is none.” *remedy
To that Cresside answered thus anon,
“N’ had I ere now, my sweete hearte dear,
*Been yolden,* y-wis, I were now not here!” *yielded myself*
O sooth is said, that healed for to be
Of a fever, or other great sickness,
Men muste drink, as we may often see,
Full bitter drink; and for to have gladness
Men drinken often pain and great distress!
I mean it here, as for this adventure,
That thorough pain hath founden all his cure.
And now sweetnesse seemeth far more sweet,
That bitterness assayed* was beforn; *tasted <57>
For out of woe in blisse now they fleet,* *float, swim
None such they felte since that they were born;
Now is it better than both two were lorn! <58>
For love of God, take ev’ry woman heed
To worke thus, if it come to the need!
Cresside, all quit from ev’ry dread and teen,* *pain
As she that juste cause had him to trust,
Made him such feast,<59> it joy was for to see’n,
When she his truth and *intent cleane wist;* *knew the purity
And as about a tree, with many a twist, of his purpose*
*Bitrent and writhen* is the sweet woodbind, *plaited and wreathed*
Gan each of them in armes other wind.* *embrace, encircle
And as the *new abashed* nightingale, *newly-arrived and timid*
That stinteth,* first when she beginneth sing, *stops
When that she heareth any *herde’s tale,* *the talking of a shepherd*
Or in the hedges any wight stirring;
And, after, sicker* out her voice doth ring; *confidently
Right so Cressida, when *her dreade stent,* *her doubt ceased*
Open’d her heart, and told him her intent.* *mind
And might as he that sees his death y-shapen,* *prepared
And dien must, *in aught that he may guess,* *for all he can tell*
And suddenly *rescouse doth him escapen,* *he is rescued and escapes*
And from his death is brought *in sickerness;* *to safety*
For all the world, in such present gladness
Was Troilus, and had his lady sweet;
With worse hap God let us never meet!
Her armes small, her straighte back and soft,
Her sides longe, fleshly, smooth, and white,
He gan to stroke; and good thrift* bade full oft *blessing
On her snow-white throat, her breastes round and lite;* *small
Thus in this heaven he gan him delight,
And therewithal a thousand times her kist,
That what to do for joy *unneth he wist.* *he hardly knew*
The lovers exchanged vows, and kisses, and embraces, and speeches of exalted love, and rings; Cressida gave to Troilus a brooch of gold and azure, “in which a ruby set was like a heart;” and the too short night passed.
“When that the cock, commune astrologer, <60>
Gan on his breast to beat, and after crow,
And Lucifer, the daye’s messenger,
Gan for to rise, and out his beames throw;
And eastward rose, to him that could it know,
Fortuna Major, <61> then anon Cresseide,
With hearte sore, to Troilus thus said:
“My hearte’s life, my trust, and my pleasance!
That I was born, alas! that me is woe,
That day of us must make disseverance!
For time it is to rise, and hence to go,
Or else I am but lost for evermo’.
O Night! alas! why n’ilt thou o’er us hove,* *hover
As long as when Alcmena lay by Jove? <62>